


let's talk about the only story in the world.

by arurun



Category: D.Gray-man, Fairy Tail, Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Hunter X Hunter, Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic, One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Borderline Personality Disorder, Crossover, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Out of Character, Reincarnation, Scars, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:41:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26633032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arurun/pseuds/arurun
Summary: A mysterious box makes its way to the Fairy Tail guild hall, and members of Fairy Tail wake up with memories, scars, and the abilities of their past lives.Contains:canon divergences, some OOCs, Laxus with an eyepatch, Gray with no self-preservation skills, murder child Levy, Cana 'blackmail is my hobby' Alberona, as well as the unfortunate sane one, Natsu.You don't need to know all the fandoms to read this, cause it'll all get explained, but it might get a bit confusing.
Comments: 20
Kudos: 139
Collections: Pacing's bests, Reincarnation and Transmigration





	1. "if the day comes that we are reborn once again..."

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [My Heroes Reborn](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/689848) by Emma Iveli. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A multi-crossover fanfic. Let's say some characters in Fairy Tail get hit by a magic that makes them remember their past lives. And some of those past lives are dark as heck. 
> 
> Well, good thing Fairy Tail is all about found family, right? 
> 
> **Story title is from Be As One (w-inds, FT Ending 6).**  
>  **Chapter title is from Servant of Evil (mothy, SirHamnet cover)**

The year is X779. The guild was beginning to fill with an unlikely harmony of children and drunkards, and Master Makarov really couldn’t wish it was any other way.

It happened when they opened the box Mystogan brought in.

The teen himself had dropped it off as urgently requiring Master’s attention, but Master found himself struggling with reading the letter as Levy's overly curious fingers came too close to the object.

Master had yelped, but it was too sudden for the girl. Startled, the box jumped out of her hands, went airborne for all of three long seconds-- and suddenly, the metal box was headed straight for her head, and Levy was too out of balance to protect herself.

Laxus had lunged forward in alarm, barely catching the edge of the box in time to thwart a possibly fatal accident. 

And then they tumble, balance and gravity causing nothing but trouble as always. 

In an effort to keep his knees from crushing Levy, Laxus’ elbow hooked just a little too close to Cana, bringing the girl down with all of them.

And in one collective knot, they collapsed in a painful heap. Clumsily for the girls, and very awkwardly for Laxus, who barely managed to keep one arm upright for the box.

“What’s this?”

Natsu took the box from Laxus’ hand. 

“You guys okay?” 

Gray, who was right beside him (they had been fighting, of course, but stopped to look,) reached a hand over to help Levy crawl out. 

“Wait, Natsu, don’t open that--!!” 

-

The resulting explosion was expected, but what _wasn’t_ expected was the huge magic circle to spread out from the box, enveloping the nearby children in its script and causing a massive electrical discharge in response to their bodies.

Pained screams ripped from their throats, and Laxus reacted first. 

If it was lightning of some sort, he could eat it before it caused any lasting damage-- but he froze, realizing abruptly that _he couldn’t_. 

He couldn’t eat his lightning.

And so the pain spilled over his sense, burning like cracks against his skin, carving deeper into his veins--

\--until it finally travelled to his head and his brain _shattered_ with immense pain.

If he screamed, he didn’t notice.

Because everyone else screamed, too.

-

The kids were on the ground, evidently in immense suffering of some sort. The magical discharge had died down almost immediately, but the magical circles remained, and it was causing _changes_. 

“Shit! What’s going on?!”

“Wait, who are you--”

Secret identity be damned, Mystogan spun right back into the guild, unhesitatingly casting his Sleep Magic on the five, if only in hopes it would ease _whatever_ they’re going through. 

Makarov, surprised to see him show his face blatantly, composed himself. 

“Go fetch Porlyusica!” he ordered, and Alzack took off running. 

Retrieving the box would be too dangerous now. Mystogan brought down a three-layered magic circle no one could quite recognize, and entirely harmlessly, he reached down and picked it up.

Lines and lines of ancient Gheel sprouted from its lid, forming a list of what cold only be the secrets of the box.

Master bit his tongue to hold back the curses. Now wasn’t the time.

He looked at his children, falling uncomfortably asleep in their piles, faces muddled with pain. Natsu and Gray have always slept well. Cana looked like she had trouble breathing, and Levy was still whimpering softly. 

And Laxus-- Makarov hated to see Laxus of all people look so startlingly pale. He hadn’t been so weakened since the Lacrima in his eye.

“Let’s move them to the clinic inside,” he looked away, looking comber. “This is my mistake. We must hurry.” 

Whatever happened to his kids-- he needed to decode this. Now.

-

Of all the ways Mystogan imagined he would be revealed one day, this wasn’t it. 

Sure he had stayed to watch, just to make sure Makarov got the message-- it would be irresponsible if he’d left it and something went wrong. 

And it did. Mystogan had hesitated just a second too long, and, well, look what happened.

He couldn’t decode the Gheel on it. Edolas just didn’t have that script in its history. So he didn’t have any idea on what it could be.

He just hoped his little slip wouldn’t affect any of the younger kids for the rest of their lives. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.

“Uhm…”

He flinched. Erza had approached him.

“You’re Mystogan, right?”

Mystogan reached up and, almost nervously, adjusted his mask. It’s on perfectly as always, but he just couldn't help but feel anxious around Erza. 

Master would handle the rest, so he turned around to leave.

“Wait,” this time, it was Mirajane. “Don’t go. Stay.”

If his face could be seen, they would know that Mystogan had his brows raised in confusion. Macao and some of the other adults had carried the unconscious children to the back, so here Mystogan found himself surrounded by the remaining members.

“We don’t mean to be intrusive,” Erza clarified. “But you’re worried too, right? Then stay for a drink and let’s wait together.”

Mystogan was very uncomfortable with the idea.

But their eyes were strained. Their brows were furrowed in something short of a grimace-- and Mystogan knew that his face under the mask was the same.

They were all anxious.

“Alright.”

They were all Fairy Tail mages and he didn’t have to hide.

-

It took a stressful number of hours for Porlyusica to determine that they were, physically at least, unharmed. 

Freed and Reedus were huddled around the corner with a couple of the adults. Light pens in their hands, they worked as quickly as they could to decode the writings. It would work faster if Levy were here-- but she wasn’t.

“They’re just sleeping now,” Porlyusica reported, standing oft to the side as everyone gave her a respectful wide berth. “But there is something strange going on with their bodies.”

Lisanna made a sharp squeak as she stepped into the clinic, her knees losing their energy as she collapsed in shock.

“Lisanna?” Mirajane hurried in-- only to gasp at the sight, and slide right in beside her sister, though with much more balance.

Curious eyes followed them in.

The five of them were asleep, soft groans from their throats indicating anything but a peaceful rest. Nightmares, perhaps-- and they were stuck in it due to the Sleep Magic. 

Though nothing looked wrong at first-- they found it quickly.

Gray’s face was blotched out in colour-- like vitiligo, half of this face was now a pale pink in contrast to his usual tan, split nearly in the center as if someone had ripped the colour out of his skin by force.

“Levy’s got something too!” 

Elfman rushed over-- and sure enough, the girl had lichtenberg figures sprawled over much of her body, little lightning-bolt shaped discolourations spilling past her skins, crawling partially toward her face. 

“Check the others!”

“Laxus looks fine!”

“Cana too!”

Porlyusica didn’t move. Evidently, she had seen them already-- but she didn’t know what was wrong, and they didn’t seem to cause any real repercussions.

“Oh god,” Bickslow was looking over Natsu when he found what looked like burn scars-- _burn scars on Natsu_ \-- all over both of his arms travelling far up to his elbows. The skin was rough and calloused, but they were scars, not wounds, so it wasn’t an injury requiring medical attention.

“Laxus has one!” Macao realized, “it’s on his wrist! What is this… a cross?”

“Shit, is that a… stigmata?”

“It’s not on his other wrist. But it’s different from the others, this one’s-- Porlyusica-san, isn’t this a fresh wound?”

Porlyusica made her way over to inspect the wound. “The scar is slowly opening,” she hissed in disbelief, “I’ll wrap it up for now. Keep an eye on the others.”

“Everyone, calm down!” Makarov raised his voice, and all eyes in the room turned to him.

No one was calm. No one could afford to be calm.

“We can only decode the writings and find out what’s going on,” he said, sounding firm but his expressions betrayed how sure he was of himself. “They will be fine. They are our children, they are strong.”

They will be fine.

They can only pray that’s true.

-

The intellectuals of the guild spent the night studying, decoding, translating,and making sense of the text on the box. Mystogan stayed with them, because he was the only one capable of the nullifying spells against it.

They didn’t want to risk any chances of the box activating again.

“I'm done with the seal!” Chico rushed into the hall, a talisman-looking piece of paper in her hands. She spotted the masked S-class mage in the corner and approached without a hint of hesitation in her movements. “Mystogan, would you?”

Mystogan was taken aback by that.

They had never met him in person before-- yet they were already comfortable with his presence, treating him as just another anomaly in the presence of the guild. He only wished the opposite were that easy.

Taking the seal in his hand, he nodded at her. 

“You have my thanks.”

They had commissioned an urgent dispel seal from the Magic Council, which will hopefully keep the box harmless enough to be handled. 

It won’t reverse the effects of what had already happened, but at least now Mystogan wouldn’t have to expend his magical energy to keep his barrier up.

“ _Asta ver ilha_ ,” Freed muttered, “ _Jus’na hohen riah_ … Hohen?”

“Spirit, right?” Reedus circled it in the air. “ _Riah_ would be…”

“Repeat,” Freed said. “So spirit, repeat. Redone?.. no-- Life. _Life_ redone.”

“Wait, that’s it!” 

Everyone that was in the guild turned to them with interest. Freed picked up the last of the writings-- and finished the sentence.

“Get the Master,” he said. “We decoded it!”

-

* * *

-

**_“And don’t forget. Fiidora’s parasites are still in your precious little junior. You wouldn’t want to lose another successor at that age, would you?”_ **

**_-_ **

The constant throb in his head, eating through his brain, prying his cells apart like blood oranges-- slowly, meticulous, thoroughly, bit by bit, again and again. And again.

The moans tear from his throat, but he can’t move. 

He wants to cry, but that's a weakness. He can’t falter. It’s his entire point of meaning-- to stay stoic, to watch, to record, and to not alter the events of history. 

He can’t give them any information. 

(But who’s they?)

Laxus bolts awake, blankets crumpled in his lap. His throat is sore, he can’t quite find the oxygen in his lungs even though he’s breathing as hard as he can.

There are too many colours. Too many things, searing into his eyes bit by bit, and taking in his surroundings is too much, too bright, too loud, too clustered--

\--he squeezes his eyes shut, hands clamped tightly over his ears. His throat makes a sound, almost like a pathetic whimper, but he could care less.

“Laxus!” 

“Laxus is awake! Get the Master!”

“Master, it’s Laxus!”

The noise comes back all at once in a series of loud, ear-piercing voices. 

Shit, where’s gramps? Wait... gramps? He had a feeling the one he was thinking of wasn’t the one he instinctively recognized. 

He has to get a grip. Whatever’s going on, he can’t dally too long. He needs to catch up on the events and get them organized before he loses track--

(--no?)

(No, he’s not a Bookman anymore… He’s…)

And all at once the memories come back. 

He recognizes the guild hall, realizes he’s in Fairy Tail-- _Fairy Tail_ , his guild, his home, living with his gramps because his dad was chased out a couple years back. He’s a lacrima-infused Lightning Dragon Slayer. His name is Laxus. Laxus Dreyar. And.

And it doesn’t make sense.

“Laxus, look at me.”

He looks up-- and Makarov is there, along with a peanut gallery consisting of most of the guild. Makarov is looking at him with worry that hasn’t been in his eyes since before Ivan, before the lacrima.

“What’s wrong with his eye?”

Eye? Laxus is prompted gently to the side by Porlyusica, and it’s when she shines a light into it that he realizes-- he can’t see out of his right eye.

And he reaches up, confused. He hadn’t noticed yet-- maybe it’s because he was more accustomed to wearing an eyepatch over it all the time. 

(But Laxus never wore an eyepatch, not even when the Lacrima carved a bolt-shaped scar into his face.)

“It’s gone,” Porlyusica says, grimly. “I supposed it’s the same as the others.”

Others? Laxus cranes his head toward the other beds-- and his eyes go wide when he sees the other four in the rooms, their faces pale in a nightmare.

And Laxus remembers what happened right before he passed out.

His eyes linger a little longer on Gray’s and Levy’s faces-- and his eyes narrow, almost regret. It’s one thing for him to suffer, and another thing completely for the brats to. He feels like shit already, he can’t imagine how much worse it is for the kids.

“Calm down and listen, Laxus,” Makarov sits down on the chair. 

And Laxus listens, as Bookmen do.

-

_A long time ago, there were a pair of star-crossed lovers._

_But they were in a time of war and prosecution. They could not wed, could not express their love openly, and were separated for long periods on different sides of the battlefield._

_They lived a miserable love full of longing, but they believed they were destined to be._

_So they created a magic that would link them up in their next life, to ensure they could remember and meet in their next cycle of incarnation._

_But before it could be completed, the town was consumed by a raid, and the unfinished spell was left inactivated._

“So you’re telling me that it awakened my past life’s memories,” Laxus sums it all up. “And because it’s imperfect, it brought back a few scars along with it.” 

“There’s a bit more we haven’t decoded, but that’s basically it,” Freed says, leaning on the bed, “are you sure you’re alright, Laxus?”

Laxus looks at his hands.

He sees the bandages on his wrist, slightly stained over in blood-- and he plucks off the buckle to the minute surprise of literally everyone around him.

“Wait, that's a bad idea--”

Porlyusica had finally decided to go back to her den, so everyone was extra alert in regards to the five kids.

Laxus trains his eye on the stigmata carved into his skin, inspecting the raw wound. 

“Shit, hasn’t it gotten worse?” Bickslow leans over, taking Laxus by the wrist in case the curious-looking teen started prodding at it. 

“It’s waking up,” Laxus says.

All eyes turn to him. 

“You know what it is?” Makarov asks. “Is it harmful?”

Laxus blinks, almost sleepily. “Not exactly. I had it in my past life,” he says, as vaguely as he could. “Seems like it came back with my memories. Did the text say anything about it?” 

Freed shakes his head. “Probably another part of the incomplete bits,” he offers, his eyes trailing to the wound every once in a while.

Pain shoots up the stigmata, and Laxus winces visibly.

“Should I call Porlyusica-san back?” Erza offers. 

Laxus raises a hand to stop her, shaking his head. Makarov stops him as he gets up, but Laxus removes the covers from his lower body to stand up. 

“Laxus?” Freed keeps a hand at his sleeve. “You should go back to sleep. You don’t look too great--”

“I”m fine,” Laxus insists, “just… confused. Past life and all.”

He stares at his stigmata, and he can’t quite recall it. It’s at the tip of his tongue-- what was it called? It’s not Magic. It had another term, and then his own, _his_ special one, had a name to it as well. All of them did.

But that can’t be true. Magic just didn’t work like pets.

Was he a Holder-type mage in his past life? Yes, it was something like that, but different. 

“Holder-type,” he mutters, holding his head as he tries to get his thoughts sorted. “No… Equipment type? Huh? The terms are different.”

“Is it an era thing?” Bickslow offers, “like, your past life was way before magic was even jotted down properly? Oh Laxus, you’re old.”

“Hey, Bickslow, shush,” Mirajane chides. 

Laxus blinks at that. “What year is it?” 

“Uh, X779?” Macao says.

Laxus is even more confused. Counting off his fingers and remembering images and dates he's lodged in before, he wonders, “I have a feeling it’s supposed to be 1883?”

“Eighteen _what_?!”

“Laxus, are you from the future?!”

“No, that doesn’t make sense.” 

“Then what else?”

“Maybe he’s from 1883C.”

“Is Earthland that old, Macao?”

“I mean, do we know? History books didn’t exist then.”

History books. That’s right-- if there was anything Laxus remembered very clearly, it was the fact that he was a Bookman, observer and recorder of history. 

_And he was working as?_

“An Exorcist,” he says abruptly, finally finding the word. “I was an exorcist.”

“Exorcist?” someone asks. 

“You mean the ones that banish haunted mansions and all that?” 

“Those are priests. And magic can deal with those things now.”

“No, I think this one’s different.”

And the beings they fought-- they weren’t magical creatures. They were machines of destruction. And they went by another name.

“Akuma,” Laxus says, and his eyes trail over to his stigmata. “Shit. I don’t think I was even in Earthland.”

Jaws dropped.

“What?!” the exclamation reverberates across the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **  
>  _  
>  Terminology from fandoms if you need:   
>  _   
>  **
> 
> **Bookman:** In the D.Gray Man universe, the Bookmen Clan preserve and write down the history of the world. They are usually in the center of conflict, but remain neutral.
> 
>  **Stigmata:** Of religious significance, stigmata are wounds that appear mysteriously on your body that signify your dedication to your faith. In the DGM verse, they show as a cross-shaped wound. 
> 
> **Innocence:** Also known as the ‘Anti-Akuma Weapon’. Much like magic, there are two forms of Innocence: Parasitic-type and Equipment-type, but unlike magic, Innocence chooses their users and reject those that are unworthy.
> 
>  **Exorcists:** Anyone that can bond with a fragment of Innocence are exorcists, and are gathered to work for an organization known as the 'Black Order'.


	2. "treat life thoughtlessly and it will become spiteful."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gray wakes up.
> 
> And everyone immediately wishes he stayed asleep a little longer, because he's got one hell of a foul mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter title is from Hated by Life Itself (Kanzaki Iori)**

If there’s anything Gray vividly remembers, it’s being ripped apart. Torn out from within, dragged out from his body-- and then-- shatter.

If there’s anything Gray vividly remembers, it’s the fire. 

Not so much flames and smoke as it is just  _ melting _ , sinking slowly into molten lava, feeling his legs burn until its cold and feeling his throat go hoarse from his-- screaming? No. He won’t scream for them. He laughs, he curses, and he laughs some more. 

And then he returns, like every other time he dies. 

He dies, but he never stays dead.

Gray begins to regain consciousness and he hears voices-- and he knows he has to stay quiet. 

Stay quiet, gather information, and once he understands… once he understands… what? What will he do?

(Kill them.)

_ No. He shouldn’t kill them. _

_ Huh? Why?  _

He only ever lives for himself. He doesn’t spare lives-- he just takes whatever he wants, however he wants, and now he wants to sleep somewhere quiet. If people are talking over his nap maybe they should've known better. 

_ But no.  _ That is not what Gray Fullbuster does. 

Gray does not  _ kill _ . Gray does not use his hands for those things. 

Ur always told him that his hands were made for the most beautiful things. Then he would insist that beauty wasn't cool, and she would insist the coolness would come from its strength, and so on. It's a never-ending debate he ought to discover in his own magical journey. 

_ (Huh? When did that ever matter?) _

**_“You mean there are parallel worlds?”_ **

He opens his eyes.

**_"There are."_ **

**_"But Mystogan…"_ **

Craning his head in the direction of the voices, the colours assault his senses and he cringes. He can’t help but be reminded of a certain loud brat with a bright red jacket. 

The sky outside the window, it's blue. 

There's the soak of red. Crimson red. He almost mistakes it for a gush from a corpse until he recognizes the waves, more of hair than of water.

And it hurts his eyes. 

It's as if there had been a filter over the world that muted all the colours around him-- and now, waking up, all the colours are three shades brighter and picked from the other edge of the spectrum whenever they could. 

It was a total headache, and he hated it with a passion already. Maybe if he gouged out his eyes he won't have to see it anymore. 

When was the last time he’d seen so many colours at once? The military had their ugly blue, the monsters leaned toward blacks, civilians tended to prefer dull and earthy colours… it was only that one kid that donned bright red on golden blonde. 

Crap, was Amestris really that dull or was he just unfortunately on some colour blind spectrum twice in a row?

...that's not how it works, does it? 

“Yeah,” he chuckles at the thought. 

**_“Gray!”_ ** crap. They heard him.

The redhead-- Erza. She’s Erza, Erza Scarlet. His longest friend in Fairy Tail, second only to Cana. And Cana-- he finds her in the bed beside him.

Oh, well.

He’s not so sure of the situation, but it’s like what happened with the Xingese Prince-- he’s probably been extracted somehow and placed into a new body. Does that mean the Fullmetal brat lost against Father?

No. He has too many of Gray Fullbuster’s memories for a normal possession though. Ah, that’s not accurate-- he isn’t possessing the boy, he  _ is _ Gray Fullbuster.

Heck, magic systems? Magic systems. If the Fullmetal brat heard any of this theory in his head he’d be a laughingstock.

And this. 

This place definitely isn’t Amestris. It just feels-- different. 

(Heck, they’re not even speaking the same language, now that he realizes.)

Wait. 

Wait a  _ fucking _ minute. His hands are  _ astoundingly _ tiny. Sure, Bastard Prince had smaller hands than his first host, but this is just ridiculous. This is… like the twerp. No no, more like Pride’s dumb body.

\--shit. But Pride’s body was like. Nine.

“How old am I?”

-

Gray gets a rundown of the mysterious box, and things are just more confusing now.

Because he’s  _ immortal _ , y’know. 

He doesn’t exactly die. 

He’s not exactly a soul that goes around the cycle of life either, in any religion or any unknown religion or any of that bullcrap. It’s simple-- his consciousness is just a part of Father’s. If Father’s dead, he should be, too.

So why is he apparently uh, _ reincarnated?  _ Just doesn’t make sense. 

“That’s a cool mark,” Wakaba looks over. “Is that a dragon?”

Freed traces the six-edged star in the air twice contemplatively, “That’s a… star of David, right? And the dragon’s eating its own tail, so it’s called an Ouroboros Tattoo.” 

“Think it’s a guild mark?”

“Looks cultist to me,” Bickslow says, earning a smack over the head. 

Gray finally notices the tattoo on his hand, the same slightly faded shade of blood as always. He grimaces. Does that mean he’s still a homunculus?

Do Homunculi even exist in Earthland? Heck, Alchemy is probably bullshit here in the same way magic is bullshit in Amestris, so no way they can make a person, much less a Philosopher’s Stone. 

_ Ugh, this makes no sense. _

Wait.

He sets a hand on his chest and-- wonders. If the tattoo is here...

“Gray?” someone says. He doesn’t turn to look.

He considers his nails-- then he looks around. There’s no sharp object anywhere around the place-- oh look, a pencil. That might work.

“Gray?”

“Wait. I have a bad feeling about-- GRAY!”

They managed to stop him.

Gray pouts. He just wanted to check.

-

They don’t want to disturb the few that are still unconscious, so they’re now gathered at the bar with Laxus and Gray sitting at the counter. 

Gray has lost his shirt somewhere along the way.

“Oh thank goodness, some part of you still lives,” Wakaba says.

“Shut up!” he snaps, embarrassed. Seriously, is it muscle memory? Pure idiocy? How does his shirt go missing like this, it’s never happened before!

Meanwhile, Laxus is sitting down. 

He’s always been a quiet sort, but he’s strangely silent now. His eyes-- eye. He has his right eye closed-- run over the crowd almost observantly, studying each person before subtly remaining on the floor.

Makarov sits down on the counter. Erza is beside Gray, and Freed is beside Laxus. The rest are hanging around a little further, but still looking intently at their new situation.

“So, I know you kids are still confused, but we’re all worried, especially with what little we know of you being utterly… worrying to say the least,” Makarov says, clearing his throat.

Lisanna has a notebook in her hands. 

“I wanna know more about the other worlds,” she says, “Ms Porlyusica suggested we write things down.”

Freed, seemingly charmed by the idea, produces a notebook from the back of the counter as well, his intentions clear. 

Gray broods. “This is stupid.”

Laxus looks at the notebook with a sort of curiosity. "Guess writing systems are still the same in this world," he observes, contemplatively. "The Light Pen aside, technology's not too far off from my world."

Freed, eyes sparkling with interest, shoves the book and pen in his direction.

Laxus sighs. “I’m getting my own hobbies mixed up,” he says exasperatedly, “this is embarrassing.”

“Just screw it dude, you live in this body now,” Gray wrings his hands, “I say fuck’em.”

Bickslow wails, “guys, we lost Gray.”

“I mean, this is the first time I actually have to adapt to a new personality,” Laxus says, ruffling his hair in annoyance. 

“What, you’re going to say this isn’t your first bodysnatching too?” Mirajane asks.

“Huh? He’s the bodysnatcher, not me,” Laxus jabs a thumb at Gray, who points at himself with the gall to look innocent. “I just had to change... associations... a lot. Due to my field of work.”

“That exorcist stuff?” 

“No, being an exorcist was uh, secondary.”

Everyone looks at him like they want an explanation. 

With a sigh, he opens the book, casually removing the cap of the pen between his teeth as he hikes one foot to his thigh to use as a writing table.

“So in my world, we were in, a sort of war,” he explains. “One side was the Black Order, where the exorcists worked, and then we had the Noah Clan, who commanded the Akuma. War comes and goes, y’know. Every few years it starts again, human nature.”

Freed leans in closer to look at the notebook. 

Laxus didn’t quite notice, but the crowd had gone silent at the almost casual mention of a millenium-long war. 

“Then we have the Bookmen, who are the neutral party who basically observe and record all the history of the world,” he says. “I was the apprentice of the Bookman of my era, though I died before I took over the post.”

He caps the pen again, showing a neat diagram drawn to illustrate the flow of the war. 

Then he freezes. “Why did I do that?”

Gray pats him on the shoulder with a hearty laugh. “Don’t mind it dude, maybe it’s a habit? Like, I have to keep reminding myself not to kill people.”

Stilted silence in the hall once again.

“Alright,” Makarov clears his throat. “First, we need to get Gray some therapy.”

“Hey!”

-

* * *

-

Master then set down some important rules.

Though it was a little too late to prevent any of this information from spreading rumours in town, they could still hide the specifics of the situation. 

Then there was Mystogan, who all but scurried away once Gray woke up. He didn’t get away scot-free though, Erza and Mira made him promise to visit for a drink once a week.

Then there was this.

“I was nineteen, like I said,” Laxus restates. 

And why was that surprising? Because Laxus, now, physically, is  _ eighteen _ . If anything, that drove home really well just how young he was when he died.

“Nineteen and fighting in a war?” Macao asks.

“Uhm actually, I joined when I was sixteen,” Laxus corrects him.

“ _ Excuse me _ ?!”

Gray laughs again. “You can really tell this world’s peaceful when they think sixteen is young.” Everyone gives him a look, and he shrugs, “what, when it’s war, you need all you can. Good alchemists were rare in my world, so we had a genius twelve-year-old and geezers up high just leapt at the chance, y’know.”

“Twelve?!” 

“What’s an alchemist?” Erza zeros in on that part.

“Uh, I guess you could call it the equivalent of a mage? Much rarer though. Think about 5 per cent,” Gray says. "I don't get alchemy, so don’t get your hopes up.”

“Guys, he just said twelve!  _ Twelve _ .” 

“Well, Timothy was nine,” Laxus says, and before anyone comments on it he clarifies, “in our defense, we had less Exorcists than we had enemies and we needed at least three of us to hopefully take down one of them.” 

“Your world’s magic ain’t easy to learn?”

“You die if it hates you, so yeah."

“Oh, so kinda like a Philosopher's Stone. I get it.”

“If we’re counting when I got involved in war in general, let’s say seven,” Laxus offers, “got hit by a stray bullet. Thought I was gonna die.”

“Seriously? Kids are  _ glass _ ,” Gray looks disgusted. 

“Humans in general are glass,” Laxus says. “Akuma had poison in their bullets, so one hit and you’re dust. Not exaggerating.”

“Amestrians were pretty weak, but wouldn’t call them fragile,” Gray says, “die pretty easily, but they struggle, y’know. Automail and tanks, their technology’s way ahead of Fiore if I have to admit it. What’s life expectancy on your end?”

“In the Black Order? About three months after they join.”

“Dude, people usually give me a damn number. And the country, I mean.” 

“We were kind of a secret organisation. They get pretty old unless you count the time the country of Edo got blasted to smithereens--”

“--what the hell?”

"Yeah, that was our bad."

The guild, at this point, were reduced to simply staring in jaw-dropped horror at the two that just went on and on.

Finally, sounding absolutely defeated, Macao groans to the old man with a voice laced with tears. “Master, they need a psychiatrist.”

“I agree.”

“Me too.”

“I think we all agree.”

-

They gave up talking to the two. 

Gray was abnormally talkative about the absolute wrong things. Laxus always started in the proper, very helpful and informative direction, but then Gray would come in with a comment and it would get derailed almost immediately.

“What we know for now is that both your worlds were in some sort of war,” Macao sums it up in the end, “and because magic was rarer in your old world, child soldiers were a necessity?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“And both of you were child soldiers?” Wakaba asks.

“Sixteen is a teenager,” Laxus says. When Macao glares at him, he raises his hands apprehensively, “yes, yes. I am.”

“Huh? No, absolutely not,” Gray responds waving in denial. “I don’t age. I’m kind of an immortal thing-- been around for three hundred years.”

Pause.

“Wait, what?!”

Gray blinks, “did I not mention I wasn’t human?”

“No??”

“Oh,” he hums, showing them the Ouroboros tattoo. “I guess you could say I’m an artificial human. The military hated the hell out of us.”

There’s another moment of silence.

“Wait, so you were on the enemy side?” Laxus asks. 

Gray seems to take a moment to think about that. “No? The rest of them hated my guts too. Kinda hung around the middle until one side decided they’re better off working with me than killing me each time we meet.”

“Ah,” Laxus says, “so you were like, the Black Sheep of the family?”

“Yeah--”

Makarov raises a hand, realizing that the conversation’s derailed again. Seriously, they can’t get a single point into anything when Gray is here! 

“Alright, enough. Porlyusica suggested that you two rest at least for another few hours, if only to get settled,” he says. “We’re all exhausted, so I believe we should do so, preferably immediately.”

Laxus gives them a look that indicates he’s been awake longer hours in his life. Gray mirrors the look, but decides against saying anything.

“I want you two to know that this changes nothing,” Makarov says.

The two give him a raised eyebrow look, not sure where this is coming from. 

“Alright, c’mon Gray!” Erza takes Gray by the elbow. “You need to get back to bed.”

“You too, Laxus,” Freed and Bickslow lead the teenager by the sleeves back toward the infirmary.

“Huh-- wait.”

“Hold on, Erza, but--”

“Seriously? We’re leaving it here?”

“I’m not tired.”

“Enough already,” Makarov groans at them, “all of us out here have been worried sick. THe kids should just go back to bed and sleep until the sun’s high in the sky.”

“But the sun  _ is  _ high in the sky!”

“Then sleep until the sun goes down!” a few voices yell back. 

Hastily shoved back toward the beds, the door is shut behind them and Laxus and Gray find themselves staring at each other in the silence of the room.

“Uhm, okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **  
>  _  
>  Terminology from fandoms if you need:   
>  _   
>  **
> 
> **Amestris:** The country where Fullmetal Alchemist is primarily set in. The closest real-life equivalent of this country would be Nazi Germany.
> 
>  **Alchemy:** The scientific art of manipulating matter-- understanding it, breaking it down, and putting it back together. In FMA, alchemy is similar to what we could consider magic in Fairy Tail. Except, alchemy is science. 
> 
> **Philosopher's Stone:** The basic law of alchemy is that to make something, you need another object of equal value. A Philosopher's stone is a alchemical amplifier that is able to defy those laws. 
> 
> **Homunculus:** And artificial human made using alchemy, with a Philospher's Stone as its core. They are effectively immortal until the stone runs out of lives, and in the FMA verse, there are seven Homunculi, each corresponding to a deadly sin.


	3. "everyone wants eternity in their hands."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murder child meets murder immortal. Makarov is starting to question his own sanity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter title is from DANDAN Kokoro Hikareteku (Zard)**
> 
> Warnings: being born in the wrong gender, agender he/him Levy, but no obvious dysphoria. also slight gore because Gray is a curious idiot that wants answers.

Levy wakes up dreading everything.

It’s evening and everything seems to be asleep. The guild hall is quiet for once and Laxus and Gray have already gone back to sleep.

Levy was listening, of course. It’s elementary to grasp the situation before making any obvious moves.

He stands up, and steps toward the long mirror of the room to inspect the Lichtenberg figures on his skin. Grimacing, he turns around a little, lifting up the hair at his nape just to check the extent of the scars.

The other two that have woken up didn’t seem to talk much about their new disfigurements. Levy wondered if they already know where those wounds come from.

Because well, Levy doesn’t know about his own.

They’re electrocution scars, but electrocution was always the least of his worries in his last life. In fact, electricity was his entire ability.

So Laxus and Gray both died? Levy doesn’t remember dying. Maybe the world ended or something and he hadn’t quite noticed?

His fists tighten.

This must be some kind of joke. He looks his face in the mirror again and he wants to shatter it. Drive the side of his hand through it because that’s how hard he doesn’t accept it as his own.

(And yet.)

(And yet, there’s this resignation in his heart.)

His head is going haywire-- it’s telling him this is impossible, this is probably a Nen ability of some rabid sort, probably some illusion, and he needs to wake up from it. Maybe there’s another needle in his head somewhere. 

But another part of him knows. 

It knows that that’s impossible. His heart is calmer than it's ever been-- and he usually prides himself on his composure. Something’s wrong.

Something that just tells him this is true and this is how it is and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

(As usual, he can only watch.)

(Watch.)

(Watch.)

He slaps his cheeks, shaking the thoughts out of his head.

Enough of that. At least-- at least for now _ (it’s not for now, it’s forever--  _ **_shut up_ ** _ )  _ he’s stuck here. He might as well adapt for now.

Well, death and reincarnation aside, he really could have gone without being born in the wrong gender. 

(Ah man, is Alluka alright? But for some reason, he’s not worried. Maybe it has to do with the fact that he doesn’t really remember how he died to begin with.)

He huffs. At least his name has a nice gender-neutral ring to it. Kind of.

“Levy?”

Oh.

Lisanna had been asleep against Natsu’s bed with Happy in her arms. Rubbing her eyes sleepily, she stretches, her body sore from the odd sleeping posture.

“Oh, Lisanna,” Levy looks over. 

And Lisanna, surprised into full wakenness, leaps forward. Happy is tossed back into Natsu’s side, and she scurries past two beds to inspect Levy for-- well, anything.

“You’re awake! That’s a relief. Let’s go look for Ms Porylusica?” she says, evidently excited, “we need to make sure you’re fine.”

Levy holds up two hands to ease her energy. 

“I’m fine, I think I get the situation,” he says. “It’s a bit trippy, but I’m fine.”

One part of him wants to go for a run, find a forest, explore, and climb up a tree to see the view of the world. The other part of him has become interested in the script they were talking about decoding, and wants nothing but to study it now.

He’s not sure whose instincts he should listen to.

Lisanna takes him by the hand. “Then let’s go see Master, then?”

And Levy’s taken aback. 

Slightly pushy, straightforward-- but her smile was just contagious. When he feels himself smile, he can’t help but squeeze back against that hand a little tighter.

Lisanna blinks, intrigued by the reaction and waiting for a response.

Levy keeps his hand on Lisanna’s, and leads the way out. “Y’know, you remind me of an old friend I had.”

“From your past life?” Lisanna asks. 

“Yeah. My best friend,” he says. “On second thought, maybe you remind me of my little sister more.”

“Little sister?”

“Yeah, she’s adorable. Her name was Alluka and--”

-

“Levy! You’re wearing a skirt!”

Erza scolds her the instant she walks in. The guild hall is relatively quiet for the morning, save for a sleeping-looking Master, a pleased Lisanna, and three cups of hot chocolate on the bar counter. 

Levy blinks at that. It takes him another second to take that in, and that’s in the form of him slowly bringing his leg down from where he’d drawn it up to his chest. 

His thigh rests at his other ankle, and he begins to consider his skirt, fiddling with the pleated fabric almost curiously.

“I’ve never seen a skirt this short before,” he says. “Is it normal here?”

“Yeah,” Erza informs her, “it tends to be cuter.”

Levy furrows her brows at it. “I mean, it looks good on Lisanna.”

“It looks good on you too,” Lisanna assures her. “Or is it too skimpy for whatever culture you came from?”

“Skimpy? No no, if we’re talking skimpy, I’ve seen worse,” Levy says, getting off the chair to consider herself, “but the skimpy I know tends to come with functionality.”

“Oh, like tights?” 

“Skirts are easy to move in!”

“Not at his length,” Levy corrects her, “when you wear a skirt, you just kinda feel like you should sit properly and all that, right? You can’t fight roughly with it.” 

“Fight roughly?” Lisanna asks, “ah, like Mira-nee?”

“Like Mira-- yes,” Levy considers, jumping at the comparison, “exactly like her. Her Satan Souls are usually kinda skimpy, right?”

“Don’t describe it like that,” Lisanna blushes a little. “I guess they are.”

“Oh… but Bisky always liked really long and fluttery skirts,” Levy mutters, absent-mindedly shuffling his legs about until he was sitting cross-legged on the high stool. “Well, she was just pretty weird either way.”

Erza frowns down at him.

“Well, if you’re uncomfortable in your clothes, how about we go back to Fairy Hills and find something else in your closet?”

-

Levy had always been a fashion-conscious person, even back in the other world. 

Maybe his mother had something to do with it, because the three youngest of the family tended to care quite a bit on what they wore. He hadn’t really complained about his clothes before now because, believe it or not, Levy knows she looks adorable in a skirt.

Even now, he was trying to figure out if a striped shirt or a tank top would look better on her. And he already has everything in the closet scattered around the room.

“A striped shirt and short denim overalls, huh,” Erza observes, “I approve.”

“What do you mean, ‘I approve’?” Levy chuckles, drawing his eyes away from the mirror, “there were just too many skirts and jumpers in there.”

“You could borrow something from the boys,” Erza offers, “Gray may rarely have his clothes on, but he’s the better option compared to Natsu.”

Levy stretches, pulling his arm muscle taut over his head and straining his leg muscles to get a feel for the very apparent lack of training this body has.

“Maybe later,” he says, turning distractedly to the window.

“Hey Levy, are you done?” Lisanna peeks into the room, “oh! You are. Would you continue your story about the Hunters again?”

Levy smiles. 

“Sure, where was I on it?”

Lisanna really did remind him of Alluka, in an almost bitter way that made him feel like she was a perfect replacement.

But no.

That isn’t true, Levy knows that. Nothing in the world can replace any of that. THe others may have known their deaths and accepted it-- but he isn’t the same.

There is something left.

Something left of the world he believes in. 

(Because she can’t be gone.)

(He can’t be gone.)

(There has to be a way he can go back there.)

(...right?)

-

“So in your world, the most prominent occupation was a ‘Hunter’, and you guys were basically licensed… mercenaries?” 

Levy considered that explanation slowly.  Then, “kinda? But we didn’t exactly have a clear cut between dark and light, unlike the guilds here. You could do anything and get anything if you had a license.”

This seems to put Macao off the idea. 

“So crime was just any other day for you guys?” 

Levy seems to smile at that. “Gray was right. I thought my world was pretty lax, but this world’s a whole other level of peaceful, huh?”

Mirajane holds up a hand, “you’re telling me you guys just let criminals walk free, even with a damn license to do whatever the hell they want?”

“I mean, if they earned the license, they should have that much freedom,” Levy shrugs. “Of course, there are people on the official Hunter black list, but the bounties are usually only set there to tell the normal people to stay away.”

Master pinches the bridge of his nose.

“And how old were you?”

Levy grins. “Twelve.”

Wakaba chokes painfully on his pipe in the corner.

He bursts into laughter. They’re absolutely going to lose it when he tells them he’s a professional assassin. 

-

* * *

-

When Gray wakes up, the room is cold, he needs the washroom, and Levy’s bed is empty.

He yawns, getting up and leaving his bed in a mess. He’s pretty sure he has a house a few streets over. He should go home or something… wait.

“Almost forgot,” he mutters, heading over to the mirror, casually shrugging off his shirt and setting a contemplative hand on his mirror. 

He’d snagged something from Reedus yesterday. Not a blade by any means, but a palette knife. 

Aiming generally at the dead center of his chest, he held the tip against himself and--

\--let it plunge into flesh.

He hisses at first, the sour, sour pain bursting forth quickly, harsher than he remembers it. Gray’s young body isn’t used to this.

And there’s a lot of plot. Man, there’s a lot of blood.

He doesn’t notice himself biting at his lip, a trail of blood spilling from his lips. 

Not that it matters. He smiles as the red alchemical sparks crinkle against the wound, burning right back at the wound, rumbling through the palette knife like a vain protest against its intrusion.

But he puts his free hand at the wound and begins to dig. 

Someone screams. Someone yells, a chair is shoved aside, and Gray barely notches their presence until a pair of hands are grasping at his limbs, pulling his bloodied hands back toward his shoulders.

“You IDIOT! What are you doing?!” 

He looks up to see Laxus’ panicked face.

And everyone else, looking various degrees of sick and horrified.

Gray grins through the blood staining his teeth. 

“See this?”

He lets go of the palette knife, setting a hand at his reflection before placing it at the same place, but on his chest.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Gray shows them, almost proudly, the glowing red gem buried deep inside the open cavern of his chest. 

Red alchemical sparks are already working quickly to fuse it together, flesh growing from nothing and merging and cells are growing through the wound.

In less than a minute it’s fully closed, healed perfectly. Nothing is left of the horror, save for the blood that stains his skin, his pants, and the floor. 

“It’s called a Philosopher’s Stone,” he says, as if that was what needed to be answered now. “I’m still immortal. Cool, right?”

Laxus takes a step back, releasing Gray’s hand and looking close to green himself. 

Gray simply smiles. “Isn’t it great news? This means we still have our powers!” 

Someone runs out to throw up.

“Seriously?” Levy bounces up to him, inspecting the closed wound from a couple inches away. “Man, that was impressive. Whatever that spell was, I can’t believe it actually gave you a whole new stone in your chest. What was that red stuff though?”

“Alchemical discharge, I don’t get it either,” Gray raises a hand and-- a coat of silverish gray threads up his arm, coating it like a sheet of malleable metal. “Oh ho, got my ultimate shield on me too!”

“Cool!” Levy says, eyes twinkling, “it’s called the ultimate shield?”

“Yeah, really straight to the point, right? Wanna see what it can do?”

“Hell yes.”

Master interrupts with one loud, “HELL NO!” as he slams an enlarged fist between them to interrupt their merry psychopathic chit chat.

They turn nervously over to see Master  _ glowering _ in fury.

“Both of you, I need to have some _ words  _ with you,” he fumes, like a threat. “Especially you, Gray. You’re  _ insufferable _ .”

“Awh, but Master!”

“No fun.”

“Insufferable!” Master repeats, throwing his hands into the air.

-

“What did you do the most in your past life?” The question came as an ice breaker, in a vain attempt to bring light to the gore they’ve just witnessed.

And Gray grins, “murder!”

Levy hums for a second, “murder.”

Laxus shrugs, “writing records about the war.”

Their answers are met with an almost painful silence. “What about the  _ second _ most thing you did.” Macao tries after a second, his tone full of hope that’s self-aware of its impending doom.

“Murder!” is Gray’s answer again. 

Levy thinks a little more, “beat people up?”

Laxus eyes the notebook in his hands. “Kill Akuma.”

Macao sobs in the corner, and Wakaba pats him on the back. Mirajane honestly finds tis rather amusing-- they all had such miserable lives and that was getting increasingly apparent as the time went by. 

It’s almost impressive how unfazed they were to simply chat about these things.

“Then, do you think your past self is stronger than Gildarts?” MIra challenges.

This earns her a few surprised looks. Gray and Levy had to really think about it for a moment, but Laxus had shrugged and denied it immediately.

“I’m not equipped to fight humans,” he says, “but if we’re talking about a power-based Akuma, he’s probably as strong as a Level Three or Four. I’m not taking any chances.”

“Really? I’m pretty sure I could beat him easy,” Gray says. 

“Well, people in this world don’t like to kill, so you’ve got more than just strength on your side,” Levy says, “I’m not sure about this body, but I’ll have to meet him to really tell.”

“Oh-hoh, a cautious type, aren’t cha?” Gray smirks at that, “you’re a professional killer alright. I can tell.”

“I don’t know how to feel about that, but I get you now,” Levy says with a deep sigh, “you’re the kind that charges into fire like an idiot. You’re an Enhancer.”

“Enhancer? That mean something in your world?”

“Yeah, it means sense can’t be talked into you,” Levy helpfully informs the Master. “But you’re very amusing to just watch.”

“Well, I don’t get it,” Gray shrugs. 

“Yeah. Neither do I.”

There’s a moment when everyone realizes the voice was different, and another for Lisanna to jump out of her seat in surprise.

“Natsu! You’re awake!”

Natsu had sags under his eyes and leaning heavily on the frame of the door. 

He held Happy by the scruff, his other hand clenching almost desperately at his head, nursing what was probably a terrible migraine from all that’s gone on.

He squints at the scars on his arms, almost like burns through to his elbows.

“First of all, why don’t I wear shirts?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_ Terminology from fandoms if you need: _ **
> 
> **Hunter:** A 'Hunter' is a job much like adventurers, but not in guilds and more like a business. It's also in more elite and life-risking basis due to the nature of the HxH universe.
> 
>  **Nen:** Also known as Aura, Nen is the Hunter x Hunter form of energy manipulation, similar to chakra in Naruto. It is individualistic, and everyone can train and cultivate their personal techniques.
> 
>  **Enhancer:** One of the six categories (types/general forms) of Nen. What it can do isn't important for now, but kinda like horoscope stereotypes, Enhancers tend to be simple-minded. 
> 
> **Akuma:** The basically 'grunt antagonists' of D.Gray Man. They get stronger the higher the level, and a Level Four is the strongest we've seen thus far. Not including the actual antagonists, though.


	4. "fly your own flag and keep moving forward."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natsu wakes up, and he remembers much more than he's supposed to.
> 
> Yeah, that changes things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter title is from Bravery (Supercell)**

Natsu wakes up confused.

But he's always confused nowadays, so he knows what to do when he’s confused. He sits down and thinks. He died peacefully, in his bed, surrounded by old friends and his loving wife. 

They had always wondered what happened to people after they died. Sure, the general consensus was ‘you return to the Rukh’, but after everything and the metal vessels, people just weren’t so sure anymore.

Then he looks at himself.

The scars on his hand-- “holy crap what are these?!” he freaks out immediately, flipping them back and forth, looking up and under his elbows, “crap, do I have more? Down here? Why don’t I have a shirt? Damn look at these muscles.”

He finds a mirror, and heads over.

What he sees makes him freeze.

His hair is  _ pink _ . Not the right shade, not nearly bright enough-- but it’s a shade of the red, not unlike the one that once condemned a clan to slavery. It’s the colour of the two girls that once meant more than anything to him. 

“No… Erza’s hair is closer to that shade now.”

He finds himself smiling bitterly. His memories as Natsu take precedence, he knows that. He understands that his old world is so far behind him now-- there’s no sense in feeling so homesick. 

He’s been a traveller for ages, another age won’t matter.

“But we’re in another world, huh… I wonder if it’s the same one that came into conflict with us a couple decades ago,” he mumbled. “No… this isn’t like Alma Torran-- the concept of the world’s kinda different. There’s no Rukh in the flow here either. Then is this a whole new dimension?”

Theories, theories.

Maybe it  _ is  _ a different dimension, just a little too far away for Aladdin to identify back then.

(Does that mean he’ll be able to make it back if he tried hard enough?)

His fists clenched and he shakes his head. No, no. 

He can’t think that way. Natsu Dragneel deserves to live as who he is. 

He turns back to his bed, ready to consider his next move-- when his mind is assaulted by a sudden-- baffling realization.

He runs back to the mirror.

Pink hair. 

Pink hair, sharp eyes-- a vest, and a white, scale-like scarf that screams _ Igneel, Igneel, it’s from Igneel _ . Igneel, the dragon that raised him and taught him how to read and write and everything else about it. 

That’s all he knows. That’s all he thinks he knows.

(So why?)

(Why does he have memories of a time  _ before  _ that?)

His head hurts. 

Like something’s clawing through his head, bringing up these images and trying to fuse them together with his past self. Trying to combine these two into one consciousness that should be linear and easy to understand-- yet here, it just felt agonizing.

Because Natsu-- Natsu didn’t remember these things.

(Natsu wasn’t supposed to know about this.)

“...who’s Zeref?” he whispers, holding his head.

He knows-- he knows that name.

Shit.

_ Shit _ .

It makes sense. A device meant to bring back memories from a whole other life-- it definitely can bring back repressed memories from  _ this _ life, too.

And Natsu? Maybe he’s getting too old for all these mind games. 

-

“Oh, you had a peaceful death? Nice.”

“Nice nothing, ice princess,” Natsu groans, burying his face into the table, “I’ve had enough identity crises for a lifetime and here comes  _ another _ can I get a break?!”

“Don't worry dude, you get used to new identities easily,” Gray says.

“Yea, it’s not as hard as it sounds,” Laxus says. 

“Are you guys okay?!” Natsu exclaims, genuinely in distress.

After getting Natsu a proper shirt, finding some headache pills and a great supply of overboiled hot chocolate, Natsu’s calmed down enough to get and give an explanation.

Well, he’s already guessed most of it from his thinking process. Man, Natsu could really figure out a lot of things when he thought about it. Why doesn’t he use his head more often? Anyways.

“I just can’t find it,” Levy says, “the town you’re describing, though there are some similar towns near the edges of Ishgar-- nothing lines up perfectly.”

Laxus chews on a ration bar, flipping through some history books. 

“If we’re talking about some dragon attack that happened less than a decade ago, it’s just impossible that it’s not in any form of record,” he surmises, “we should check for the news another dozen years back just in case.”

“I’m not that old, Laxus,” Natsu groans. 

Natsu remembered living in a small village, living frugal but happy lives. Then… then the dragon attacked, and everything ended.

The rest come in bits and pieces. Zeref was suddenly older. It’s like Natsu had been stuck in a feverish dream all those years, never fully registering the things that went on, but vaguely aware that it did. 

So if he wants to find out the hole in that childhood memory, he first has to remember what town he came from and what happened to it. And rather than looking for Igneel, he should look for his true roots, and find out whatever happened to  _ Zeref _ .

And Zeref-- that's another can of worms.

Zeref, the Black Wizard. Even Natsu knows that name and he hasn't dared to mention it after realizing it's his damn  _ brother  _ of all things.  _ What even happened to him in between? _

One thing for sure-- Natsu was one that never consciously kept a secret from the guild. Their hearts were open and together but now-- now Natsu had to hide behind his past life's better knowledge because he know-- he knows that too many people in this world suffer from what they know of Zeref, creator of demons. Natsu can never mention him if he wants to stay here. 

And then there was more. His 'long lost family that left him behind' went from one fire dragon to five not-quite elemental dragons and five children he barely remembers the smell of.

“I wonder how the other dragon kids are doing,” he mutters, in a similar way he would juggle thoughts about the slum kids in the past. 

Surprisingly, that brings the guild to a silence.

“The,” Mirajane speaks up, wringing her arms before her in the way one would grasp at an invisible, hard to understand box, “ _ other _ dragon kids.”

She lays her tone on a heavy emphasis, stressing on trying to clarify that one word that Natsu honestly didn’t know a better way to clarify. Then he looks around and there are people who have stopped drinking to look at him.

“So you had like, siblings before you were separated from Igneel?” Erza asks. 

Hm? He feels like there’s some sort of misunderstanding. 

“I mean, I do have a brother, but--”

“You had a  _ what _ ?!” 

“Yeah, And I guess, the five of us also grew up together so I guess we’re also siblings I guess,” he mutters, looking like he’s chewing on something bitter. “Deeny was kinda like mom too, I guess.”

“Hold up hold up,” Laxus raises his hand, “you’re saying it’s n ot only Igneel that vanished on you. Your entire  _ family _ , siblings and all, vanished on you?”

Natsu looks aside, thinking. Then, “uh. Yeah?”

“Natsu my boy,” Macao makes a whimpering noise, pinching the bridge of his nose, “you poor, poor boy.”

Gray pats him on the shoulder, “uh. Well yeah. This is really fuckin’ weird to say because of what I am in my past life but uh. Just know you have a family here with us now, okay?” 

Natsu blinks confusedly as people in the guild give him sympathetic words of encouragement, patting him on the back or hugging him while crying (that was Lisanna). 

Natsu doesn’t know what’s going on.

“Did you at least have a better childhood in your previous life?” Wakaba asks, wiping away an overdramatic set of tears.

Natsu’s confused smile melts right down, and he looks down, hands set on the stool between his legs. 

The guild falls silent, knowing well that was probably a sore topic. 

“W- Well,” Wakaba blurts, panicking as everyone glares at him to fix the icy mood, “all that matters is that you’ve got us now--”

“--I had a really nice childhood,” Natsu says, almost insistently. He looks up and grins, though there’s something glaringly different in this smile compared to Natsu’s usual wide-toothed grins. 

(Something just as joyful, but distinctly filled with struggle, and not as innocent.)

“We lived in the slums,” he says, almost proudly. He ignores the way a few people look baffled by his joyful way of referring to the desolate location. “There were a lot of us kids and we’d play all the time-- and though we weren’t connected by blood, we were a family! Kind of like Fairy Tail now.”

The last part of that made a few people smile.

“The slums, huh…” Levy speaks up, “those places are fun. One of my family’s butlers came from a place that was kinda like a huge slum.”

“A huge slum?”

“Your family has  _ butlers _ ? Plural??”

“Ooh, I’ve been to the slums too!” Gray says, finding camaraderie in terrible living conditions, “though I hang out at sewers more.” 

“Oh, you’re a city guy, eh?” Natsu says, “what about you, Laxus?”

“I don’t remember anything about my life before being picky up by gramps, so I’m not sure,” Laxus admits, rubbing the back of his head. “We’re nomadic, but I guess we always go to the slums when we find a new city. It’s the easiest way to access the state of the country.”

“Ooh, nomadic. Brings back memories,” Natsu says. When Lisanna and Happy give him confused looks he explains, “back in my world, I’m something called a Dungeon Conqueror, you see. There were these tall, magical buildings called dungeons, and people that risk their lives to explore it are called Dungeon Conquerors.”

That aspect, possibly the most easy to imagine among the other worlds they’ve heard of thus far, catches a lot of youthful attention.

They listen to Natsu as he spins the tale of the legendary Sinbad, the first man who’s ever cleared a dungeon. 

(The guild are in awe of Natsu’s storytelling skills.The children are sucked in immediately, and the adults find it hard to resist.)

(Natsu has never been so patient as to sit down and let such a carefully constructed tale weave to life in front of him-- it’s so  _ unlike _ him, that it really drives home how this isn’t their Natsu, not completely anymore.)

Erza was the most interested in the story, especially as Natsu got into the part where his sword became inhabited by a legendary Djinn, becoming a powerful Metal Vessel that allowed him to wield lightning.

(The lightning part made Laxus inch slightly closer on his stool, but Natsu doesn’t mention that.)

What isn’t lost on the guild is the way Natsu’s expressions fall slightly every time a praise is thrown in the air about Sinbad’s feats. Lisanna would says something about imbeing cool, brave, or overpowering-- and Natsu would smile, in a strained way that Natsu has never done before, and agree.

“Sinbad is the greatest man I know,” he says, and his resolved expression spells out just how much he still believes so. “Even now, we believe he’ll return some day.”

The bitter smile he gives the crowd fills Laxus’ chest with dread, but the teen keeps it out of his face as he listens.

“Then… do you have one of these Metal Vessels, too?” Erza asks.

She’s gotten a lot closer since the start of the story, and Natsu smiles at her, his eyes seeing something more than the red-haired knight that wanted a new story to stew on in her imagination. 

“That would be so cool!” Lisanna says, “oh! Is it a Fire Djinn?”

Natsu shakes his head, to everyone’s disappointment. “It’s a fire djinn,” he says however, “but I don’t have it anymore. We returned them, at the end.”

Erza’s face falls in confusion. “You… returned them?”

“Why?” Mirajane asks, “those things were your strongest weapons in your world, right? Isn’t it an important power you use? To protect your friends?”

Natsu’s hand slides to the burn scars around his arms, and no one misses it. 

“We can protect our friends without weapons and without Kings,” he says, meaningfully. “And when we all throw it away together, the entire reason we need to protect ourselves disappears, and we can all learn to live together without conflict.”

When he says it, no one speaks.

Until Laxus does. “It’s not that easy,” he says-- and the glare he has on his face is more reminiscent of Laxus’ actual personality-- yet everyone just knew it came from the person that wasn’t.

Levy nurses his hot chocolate, and doesn’t look up.

“He has a point!” Gray says, setting a hand at his chest. A few winces flip across the crowd, the gore of the morning still vivid in their heads. “If alchemy didn’t come this far, none of anything would have happened, y’know? Power, once it gets stronger, just gets misused. Better to toss it and never touch it, if I could.”

“It’s not that clear cut!” Laxus says, crashing a fist against the bar counter. Master flinches away, and Lisanna clings tighter to Mirajane’s side. “Humans have always been selfish creatures-- there’s no way you could have gotten  _ all _ of them to agree to  _ toss _ your greatest source of power at once!”

Natsu and Laxus’ eyes stay on each other for a long, furious moment.

“It wasn’t easy,” Natsu says, teeth grinding, fists balling. “But the point of Metal Vessels-- King Candidates-- is to choose who’s the most fit to rule. Do you think I’m someone who can handle an entire nation?”

The obvious answer is no. Natsu is obviously not someone like that.

But  _ this _ Natsu? A conflicted  _ yes _ and  _ maybe _ hung at their tongues, because this Natsu-- this Natsu was thinking. He was speaking of difficulties that flew over their heads, and what's worse-- he’s experienced them firsthand and conquered them personally. 

“Last time we tried to name a one true king… well, you can guess,” Natsu tells him, and Laxus swallows. He doesn’t finish his sentence.  From a war to an apocalypse, Laxus could name countless possible outcomes off the top of his head. None of them were happy.

"Right," Laxus says, dumbly. Because there's nothing else to be said there.

The silence is awkward as Levy pops open a plastic canister of chocolate pellets. It’s loud enough for a few curious eyes to turn over because-- when did he get that? Where?

Levy shrugs at them. “So, whose fire is stronger, yours or your Djinn’s?”

That launches another extensive debate, though it’s much more light hearted.

“Of course it’s Igneel’s-- wait. Amon could burn anything too. Wait, Amon’s flames have got to taste  _ awesome _ ! I wanna taste em.”

“But wouldn’t it count as your own magic? You can eat your own magic, Natsu.”

“Oh, that’s right! Dammit!”

“Hah, you’re still dumb!”

“Shut up, ice princess!”

“I’m an ice  _ ultimate shield _ princess, get it right!”

“Oh, hell no!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_Terminology from fandoms if you need:_**  
> 
> 
> **Rukh:** A source of energy in the atmosphere-- you gather it to cast spells, and there is a flow of it in every human, just like magic. However, Rukh is closely linked with human life energy, and it's said that souls return to the Rukh after death.
> 
>  **Dungeons:** aka Labyrinths. It's exactly what it sounds like-- an RPG-like tower or cavern that you explore and get loads of treasure at the final room. 
> 
> **Metal Vessels:** Upon clearing a dungeon, you gain the powers of a Djinn, which can go from fire powers to the ability to brainwash people. Like magic lamps in Aladdin, they reside in something made of metal, like a sword or a necklace.


	5. "the end of the unending sky, the end of an infinite time."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cana's lived a whole live of slavery and fighting against it. 
> 
> She's not so sure how to live normally anymore, but she knows that smiling and talking is step one in avoiding those problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter title is from Next Stage (AAA)**

**_“A million beris!”_ **

**_“Two million!”_ **

**_“Two million, five hundred thousand!”_ **

Cana wakes up and she runs. She hides by the roof, and when she finds a window, she listens in on the conversation.

Then, she lets her memories fill in the gaps.

(Or, she lets it take over her head for a second, and then shakes it away desperately.)

Maybe it was the way the memories are brought back. They went from the latest things, to the deeply rooted memories that have long faded.

Now the horrors are fresher in her mind than the joys.

Maybe she should run.

She knows the Fairy Tail mark is on her stomach, and suddenly, the spaghetti-strap one-piece dress is too little fabric.

She reaches toward her back, not sure where the strap ended and where the cloth started. Is it long enough to cover her back fully? Can people see it?

(Is the mark still there?)

She can’t show it. She barely had enough strength to climb up to the roof. If she’s caught again, she can’t protect herself. So she’ll be--

“No, I'm not there,” she reminds herself, firmer this time.

(And the mark means better things now. It’s pride now.)

She hugs her bare arms. They’re free of the many, many scars. The skin of her hands are smooth, not a scab, not a scar, not even a callous. 

It’s not hers. It’s Cana’s. 

No,  _ she’s _ Cana.

And she’s… she’s Cana Alberona, the only daughter of Gildarts Clive.

-

“Cana!” 

She’s seated with her legs hung over the edge of the roof. 

She’s been in this position the past hour, trying to gain some semblance of observation in her chest again. She didn’t quite know what else to do, so she meditated.

And now, a blue cat with wings was in front of her.

She catches him as his wings vanish, resting Happy in her lap.

“Well, I guess I’ve seen weirder things,” she says to herself. 

“Did you just call me weird?” Happy whines, offended. “And where were you? We’re all worried because you disappeared from your bed, Cana!”

Cana smiles, bringing Happy to her chest. 

“Sorry, I just needed to clear my head,” she stands up, heading toward the edge, “let’s go down and find everyone else.” 

-

“Hey-ho!” she greets. “Mind catching me up with the situation?”

Her fellow reincarnators smile and wave back. 

“I’m an immortal, genetically created being,” Gray starts, apparently his indestructibility is just another Tuesday to the world. “Nice to meet you.”

Everyone in the guild balks at that, because  _ who the hell starts with that _ , but Cana simply smiles. 

“And I’m a commander of the Revolutionary Army back in my world! Nice to meet you too,” she says. “Ah, if the structure of our world is different, then we might need a basic explanation of that first, huh.”

Jaws drop. 

Then Natsu beams, “hey, I was part of a revolutionary army too!” he approaches her excitedly. “We were called the Fog Troupe. Kinda lost though.”

“Hey, that’s cool, you guys get a cool team name!” Cana whines. “We were just the ‘Revolutionary Army’ because our leader was a bore. On the bright side though, we had a Dragon, an okama and a former noble as our figureheads.”

“A what and a  _ what _ ? Sounds like a freakshow!”

Cana blinks. “Well, compared to this world, my world was a freakshow alright! Where do I even begin?”

“Okay, let’s start with whose government was more corrupt, then.”

“Politics all of a sudden?!” 

It was strange, how Cana came right in and blended in like nothing was wrong. It was unsettling, but at the same time-- perhaps this was a relief. 

Despite their new situation, none of the actual victims were in obvious distress.

They could probably just go on like this, pretending nothing was wrong. Even if they were different now, everyone else can just adapt around them. 

They were, after all, still fellow Fairy Tail members. 

“I was more a karate fighter,” Cana admits, miming the pose for a moment. “It was called Fishman Karate and--”

“Fishman?”

“Yeah! They were merpeople-- you know, like mermaids.” 

“Mermaids?! You were a mermaid?”

“No, no, I just learned from a fishman friend.”

“I’d say I was a martial artist, but I’m more of a punch whatever, and claw everything that can’t be punched,” Gray offers. “Oh, but this guy I possessed was a great swashbuckler. He could do anything really.”

“Swashbuckler here too,” Laxus says, “wartimes, war measures, after all. I needed to get out of any situation with anything I had on hand. Mainly used a hammer, though.”

“A hammer?” Cana wonders. “Like, a huge one? That you could bash people in with?”

“It could change sizes.”

“It could change sizes?!”

“I’m an honest swordsman,” Natsu says, proudly, “Balbadd’s palace swordsmanship isn’t to be underestimated, you know. I was  _ formidable _ back then.”

“Ironic, since your usual style is just blind punching.”

“We do not talk about the boy I was the day before yesterday.” 

“Oh, what about Levy?” Cana asks, noting how the boy had been quiet for a while now. 

Levy has a moment to think. “Uhm, a bit of everything I guess?” he says, “I’m an assassin, after all. I kinda have to use anything I have.”

“So like Laxus, but hardcore, huh,” Cana concludes. Levy doesn’t correct nor add on to that, so she reckons it’s quite accurate. 

-

“Well, if we’re talking about corrupt governmental systems,” Cana hums, coming right around back to the heavy topics, “well, the entire basis of our royal hierarchy is that there’s this throne where no one can sit on. But then we find out there  _ is _ someone who sits on it!”

Natsu winces at that. “World-based hierarchy is a  _ mess _ ,” he agrees, “we had this thing called King candidates, and there were  _ dozens _ of them! Then the war happened and we realized someone was capable of rewriting the entire fabric of the universe. What was the  _ point _ of everything up until now? We don’t know either...”

“Wait,  _ what?” _ Cana gapes, “reality altering? That is  _ crazy. _ ”

“Well, I don’t know how to explain the complicated parts either, but he was basically playing god at that point!” Natsu gesticulates, making an irritated noise, “can you imagine this? We fought a god! An actual god!”

“Speaking of gods, my dad kinda became one,” Gray says. 

Everyone whirls on him in horror. 

Gray grins, “he made a sun in his hand and everything,” he snickers, “don’t worry, we totally destroyed him! I think, at least.”

“You  _ think _ ?”

“Well, I mean, I can’t live without my creator so I had to die first.”

“Hold the heck up, your dad, your creator, what? You’re a genetically modified being?” Cana pulls the conversation back a little, “what on earth was your dad?”

“Oh, I haven’t told you yet? He was like the legit Homunculus,” Gray explains, vague because who the hell has time for detailed understanding? “I’m like his copy, the part that was just Greed.”

“So you were basically a clone?” Levy asks. 

Gray shrugs. “Is that weird?” 

Levy shakes his head. “That’s cool! Did you get to punch your dad in the face in the end?”

Gray’s expressions scrunch up at that. “Well you see, I honestly don’t know…” he crosses his arms in full thought. “Like, I do know I got to sock Wrath in the face at least, or maybe I didn’t… well, whatever that is at this point.”

“Awh, that sucks,” Cana whines. “Speaking of revenge, I don’t know if I got mine either,” she sighs, “selective memory loss? I don’t know anymore.”

“Revenge isn’t nice, guys,” Natsu says, out of obligation, “break the cycle of hatred, that’s how you win a war.”

“Wow that sounds like  _ such _ a pain in the ass war,” Gray immediately says. 

“Hey, I got sent to the literal  _ nether _ once because my buddy’s longstanding grudge turned into a disagreement between us,” Natsu cringes at the memory. “Took me a thousand years to get back to the world of the living, seriously. I do  _ not  _ recommend it.” 

“I mean, we’ve all died at least once in our lives.”

“Not everyone is immortal, Gray!”

“Wait wait, I wanna hear more about the nether!” Cana says. 

“Me too! Is it fun there?” Levy adds, “is it dangerous? Livable?”

“It’s literally the nether what do you think?!” 

Laxus has been writing down everything about everyone’s worlds in his notebook since day one. It’s become his job now, and their responsibility to keep this all noted down so the guild could stay updated on new developments. 

At this point, everyone in the guild were only able to gape in bewilderment at the scene, trying to ask questions but failing to find a point to interject. 

They were speaking of such incredulous topics on such an impossible scale-- it was hard to believe that they were the same children that had, moments ago, been living in this same bubble as them. 

Makarov groans.

This is going to take  _ so _ long. 

-

They were all given a final checkup before they were declared physically able again. 

Their new scars were a sight to behold. Natsu’s flame-covered arms, Levy’s full body of lichtenberg figures, Laxus’ missing eye, Gray’s vitiligo, and Cana… Cana had a brand on her back, of the sun which she wore large and proud with an open-back shirt.

“It’s all fine, so we can just leave it alone,” Porlyusica determines. 

All of them cheered. They were finally allowed to go home, free. 

It had only been a couple of days since it happened-- Makarov had them stay at the guild for observation all this while, and disallowed them to take jobs until the situation settled. 

“You’re acting like we’ve been keeping you locked up!” Makarov snaps, annoyed. “Why are we more concerned about your wellbeing than you are of yourselves?”

They snicker at that. 

“Don’t worry too much, Gramps,” Gray says, happy about being able to take jobs again, “even if anything off happens, I can’t die.”

“That is  _ exactly  _ the problem!” 

“I’m an adult!” Natsu insists, “mentally, that is. I even had a wife! Don’t treat me like a kid! I can take care of myself.”

“You had a wife?!”

“Huh? Did I not mention that?”

“No?!”

Cana hums, “I wonder if Haki still works in this world… maybe I should go on a subjugation mission and see if I can test it out.”

“Ooh, count me in!” Levy says, leaning close, “I wanna see if Nen still works. Let’s go on one together or something.”

“You’re going on a mission?” Lisanna asks, cheerfully, “can I come along too?”

“I’m tired of this, so let’s go, Freed,” Laxus stands up. 

“Hey hey Laxus, wanna see if we can get that thing in your wrist to come out?” Gray offers, holding a palette knife for some reason (Reedus yelps, because  _ when did he take that _ ? He’s going to need to keep count of them from now on...)

Laxus immediately holds his hand far away from him, “that’s not how the Innocence works! Don’t come near me with that thing, geez!”

“Wait Laxus!” Makarov captures him before he runs off. “You know what-- all of you have to be chaperoned on missions now!”

That earned a series of devastated whines. 

“Wha-- even me?!” Laxus is exasperated, 

“Yes!” Makarov declares. “And that’s final!” 

-

Cana does end up going on a mission with Levy, with Lisanna and Mirajane as their chaperone of sorts. It’s funny that they let them off with just two others to accompany, despite their overprotective tendencies thus far. 

Mt Hakobe was cold, but nothing a few jackets can’t fix. 

“I’m glad you two can still use your magic well!” Lisanna says, “it’d have been trouble without it, huh?”

Levy dusts his hands off with a hum, stepping on the fallen body of a Mountain Vulcan under her. “Solid script isn’t all that good for battle, huh?”

Dropping a lump of steel or rocks on them is good enough for setting traps, and the elemental versatility is pretty neat as well. It’s not quite Levy’s alley, so he might stick with his past skills instead. 

“You're doing fine,” Mirajane assures her. “Vulcans aren’t really a threat anyways, you just need to beat them around a bit. You don’t need anything too lethal.” 

“So that’s why you’re only using an arm instead of the full Satan Soul?”

“Yeah, that’d be overkill.”

Cana stands firm in a stance, a fist raised before her. With a wave of sheer will-- a coat of black covers her forearm, sheening over her fist like dark steel. 

“What’s that?”

Cana doesn’t answer, but Levy makes a guess, “it’s probably one of her old powers?” 

With one resolved yell she throws a fist solidly forward-- shattering an iceberg the size of a Vulcan into innumerable, fissured pieces. With a single punch.

Lisanna is squealing in excitement, but Mirajane and Levy stare in utter, flabbergasted horror. 

Cana turns around, and her eyes are twinkling in glee. 

“Look, look! My haki still works! And it’s stronger than I thought it’d be, too, since nothing here is reinforced with the government stuff,” Cana beams. “Ohh, I can’t wait to test out Observation and the Six Paths!” 

“That was cool!” Lisanna cheers. Then she deflates with a nervous laugh, “but that means we have more destruction specialists in the guild, oops. Master will probably be mad.” 

“That’s fine.”

“No it isn’t,” Mirajane says, “that was some hell of power. It actually reminds me of Gildarts’ strength! Is it like Crash Magic?”

“Ehh, well, it isn’t magic to begin with, so I’m not sure how to describe it…”

“Hey, hey,” Levy grabs Cana by the shoulders, “that was some Enhancer levelled punch there… your world’s version of Nen is some crazy thing alright. Can anyone learn it?”

Cana chuckles at that, “yeah, it’s willpower after all. I’m thinking your world’s version-- Nen, right-- isn’t quite like that?” 

Levy has to think, “well, a lot of people can learn it, but mastering it to this level is something serious alright…”

Cana has to shake her head at the implication. She was, and never was, a master of Haki of any sort. Those titles belonged to the world powers, to the ones that spent years and those that were chosen by the Will. 

Little old _her_ could only go far, after all. 

“I’m nowhere near mastering it!” she says. “Well, to begin with, there are only three forms, and I can only use two. And the one I excel at doesn’t even come close to what shenanigans the masters can pull!” 

And as she continued to explain the mechanisms of Haki to them, their hearts warm even in the frigid Mt Hakobe weather. 

“The  _ real _ masters of Armament-- those guys, you can’t even cut their skin with a  _ hacksaw _ , I swear,” Cana says, “and this one buffoon of a comrade of mine-- one of his punches can shatter a whole colosseum arena! While there are still people on it! Can you believe him?”

“Your comrade sounds like he’ll fit in with Fairy Tail…”

“Seriously, no blade can cut them?” Levy asks, doubtful. “Sort of like Gray’s ultimate shield thing?” 

“It’s actually quite similar,” Cana reckons. “But an Armament as a shield takes a bit of will to maintain, so I think Gray has me beat. Even Tekkais are entirely reliant on my physical constitution.” 

“Tekkais?”

“Well, there’s this governmental martial art, and if you build up your body well enough, you can stand before a meteor shower unharmed or so they say…”

“So your world is a more martial art and physical battle place, rather than magic and energy manipulation, huh…” Mirajane surmises. “Isn’t it a bit of a culture shock coming in here?”

“Not at all, not at all,” Cana assures her, “we don’t have magic, but we’ve got giants and dwarfs and fishmen. And then there’s this mysterious fruit of the sea that can give you mythical abilities! Like, you’d turn into a man made of fire!” 

“Alright,  _ what _ ?”

“My world’s a hodgepodge of nonsensical elements smashed together,” Cana elaborates, “I don’t know how it makes sense, and I’ll probably need a thousand-chapter book to explain it all.”

“Oh, I would certainly love to read it,” Levy grins, “it sounds  _ awesome _ .”

“A man made of fire?!” Lisanna says, excited, “I wonder if Natsu can eat him?”

Cana snorts at the thought, but the thought of Sabo being literally eaten was just too hilarious to pass up. He would be  _ so _ offended by the sheer attempt. 

“There were dumb-sounding powers, too!” Cana continues. “One of my superiors had this thing called the Cut-cut fruit, and his arms could turn into huge scissors!”

“Huge  _ scissors _ ?!”

“So like a crab?”

“No, there are probably actual crab-crab fruits as well.”

“What kind of power is turning into a  _ crab _ ?!”

“Exactly! And there was also this one, the Jacket-Jacket fruit…”

It’s hard to tell how long they spent there, simply talking back and forth about the ridiculous elements of Cana’s old world.

And Cana enjoyed herself there, simply talking about the things she so loved in her old world. Sometimes, a world is so much more beautiful if you only look at the flowers-- so Cana only spoke of the joys, and never mentioned a word of the bad.

She doesn’t want to think of them anymore.

(Did the Revolution succeed? Or did they lose?)

(It doesn’t matter anymore, because Cana can’t ever go back there again.)

(But she trusts in her old friends, so she will always think of them hopefully.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_Terminology from fandoms if you need:_**  
>  **Beris:** also spelled bellies, berries, etc. The currency of One Piece!
> 
>  **Haki:** the One Piece form of energy manipulation. Simply put, it's a physical manifestation of willpower, and it comes in two main forms, Armament (strengthens defense and offense) and Observation (strengthens senses). 
> 
> **Six Paths:** a form of martial art employed by the World Government. I only mentioned Tekkai in this chapter-- it basically makes muscles as hard as iron.
> 
>  **Devil Fruits:** fruits that, when eaten, makes the user superhuman in exchange for the ability to swim. Powers range from elements like fire and ice, to causing earthquakes or turning people into stone. There are also ones that can turn you into anthropomorphic animals.


End file.
